


Nightmare

by AraHinam



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Angst, M/M, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8530711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraHinam/pseuds/AraHinam
Summary: It’s no mystery that Agron and Nasir’s love is strong, beautiful, and willing to withstand any force the Romans throw at them. Agron wasn’t such a fool to believe that the world would spare Nasir simply because Agron loved him. Agron had loved Duro, Spartacus had loved Sura, Pietros had loved Barca, Varro had loved Aurelia, and yet they had all died. If only love was enough to save them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling particularly angsty about Nagron, and thus this fic was born.

The sound of clashing steel and war cries were all that mattered to Agron in this moment. Roman soldiers were felled by his sword left and right, no match for the rage of the slave turned gladiator from East of the Rhine. His blood was pumping, adrenaline surging through his veins as he looked into the eyes of the soldiers who sold him and his dear brother into slavery, each death a tribute to beloved Duro and the life he could have lead. At his side, Gannicus, Saxa, and Lugo took down more Romans in their path with their own taste of cold fury upon their lips. 

It was a normal hunting mission, one that had been interrupted by campaign of rogue soldiers hoping to end Spartacus and his rebels for promise of coin. Agron had been leading the hunt with Nasir, Saxa, Lugo, and Gannicus when Roman shits had been spotted, and he had promptly sent Nasir to warn Spartacus. Impatience had yet gotten the better of the German and he had set upon the small encampment of soldiers before Spartacus could provide aid. It was easy task, taking down the soldiers, as they clearly had little experience fighting against ruthless gladiators and it turned out that Agron had no need of Spartacus’ aid. 

“Collect their weapons and anything else of aid.” Gannicus called out after the last of the enemies had been dispatched to the afterlife. He roughly pulled his sword from the chest of a well armored Roman before he began to search his person for coin and weapons. Agron began to search his own man before he realized Nasir had not returned. Before he could voice his concerns, Lugo beat him to it.

“Little man has not returned.” He said in his usual broken tongue. Agron furrowed his brow, unease seeping into his bones as he peered into the forests surrounding Vesuvius in hope to catch a glimpse of his heart running through the forest. 

“Return to temple,” Gannicus said, “Set heart at ease and find Nasir, we can handle this.” 

Agron sent the Celt a look of gratitude and unsheathed his sword as he took off into the forest. 

The German crashed through the forest, unbothered by the noise he made, as he neared the temple turned camp the rebels were currently housed in. Agron’s unease had been growing by the step, and by the time he reached the guarded wall his hands were shaking with fear. 

“Spartacus!” Agron shouted as he entered the camp. The Thracian turned from where he was huddled in conversation with Crixus, and with one look on Agron’s face he hastily approached Agron. 

“Where is Nasir?” Agron said before Spartacus could get a word out. 

“I thought he was hunting with you?” Spartacus replied. 

Agron’s fear mounted, “We came across Roman shits upon path and I sent Nasir back to warn you. He has not returned?”

Spartacus’ face was grave, “No.”

Without further word, Agron spun on his heel and moved to exit the temple and search for Nasir.

“Wait! Agron!” Spartacus said, grabbing Agron’s arm to stop him. Before Spartacus could defend himself, Agron yanked Spartacus around so he was in front of him and moved a small concealed dagger to his neck. Crixus and the other men around him tensed and moved into position to stop Agron, but Spartacus raised his hand to stop them. 

“Do not try and stop me brother,” Agron said menacingly. The look upon his face gave Spartacus pause, as it had remnants of the anguish he endured when Duro died. 

“I do not wish to give pause,” Spartacus said cautiously, “But I would give aid in search of Nasir.” 

Agron glared into his eyes for a moment, before releasing him. “Gather yourself quickly then, I would not have him from my arms a second longer.” 

Spartacus quickly moved out of the way and gathered his swords. To Agron’s surprise, Naevia, Mira, and Crixus gathered supplies as well and moved with Spartacus to join in the search for Nasir. At the questioning look Agron gave Crixus, the Gaul simply said, “In return for helping see Naevia to my arms.” And that was all Agron needed.

The four of them exited the temple and moved to backtrack from where Nasir first left. Nasir would never just disappear without proper reason, and all Agron could think of was something horrible happening to him out here alone in the forest. He angrily shook his head, hoping to dispel such thoughts, and continued his pace.

They had only gone a ways outside the wall, when through the trees the group could make out a group of people. Naevia and Mira immediately knocked their arrows and took position behind the trees, while Crixus, Agron, and Spartacus drew their weapons and took cover. A light mist obscured the figures lightly, and Agron hoped they hadn’t seen their approach. 

As the possible Roman soldiers grew closer, Agron hands twitched, eager to get to Nasir and whatever danger stalled his return. He locked eyes with Spartacus, and whatever the leader saw in his eyes he knew that Agron’s temper would not be stilled for much longer. Before Agron could do it himself, Spartacus leapt from his hidden position with a yell and advanced on the obscured figures. 

Agron turned and gave a cry himself, and with sword raised he ran to meet the soldiers. Only when he got closer and the mist gave way, he saw that it was not more Roman soldiers, but Lugo and Saxa with their swords raised and Gannicus behind them-- holding Nasir. 

It was like the very Earth itself had stopped moving. Agron felt the breath in his lungs freeze as if early winter had stolen the very warmth from the air. All he could see was Nasir, hanging limp from Gannicus arms. The blood that covered his body. The tears in Saxa and Lugo’s eyes. The anguish set in Gannicus’ soldiers. 

“A-Agron.” Saxa said, her voice breaking. She moved towards him, but he flinched away, holding up his hand to ward her back. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking until his sword dropped from his fist with a thump that broke the eerie silence. Hesitantly, he stepped toward Gannicus. One step. Two steps. Three Steps. Four steps. Until he stood in front of the Celt and the limp body of his heart. His arms moved of their own accord to take Nasir from Gannicus’ arms. A bloody wound marred the center of Nasir’s chest, right where his steady beating heart should be pumping life into his veins. The full weight of Nasir rested in Agron’s arms, and as he gazed upon the lifeless face of Nasir his legs gave out from underneath him and he dropped to his knees. A broken sob wrenched from his chest and he felt his heart shatter. 

“No,” he whispered through his tears, “no please, do not leave me.” His shaking hands held Nasir’s face as he looked upon his face, begging and pleading for him to wake up. To return to his arms. To smile at him once more. To feel the press of his lips. To feel his heartbeat in chest once more. The tears came unhibited as they slipped down his face, onto Nasir’s. No response. 

“The soldiers had sent ahead scouts,” Gannicus said softly, “Nasir must have come across them on route to Spartacus ear. They all lay dead when we found him. He fought well. Died a warrior and free man.”

The words provided no comfort, as Agron’s sobs only came harder. This couldn’t be happening to him. The gods could not seek to punish him more. Not after Duro. Not after everything had been ripped away from him. They couldn’t have Nasir too. They just _couldn’t_. Agron pressed his forehead to Nasir’s, pressing fervent kisses to the Syrian's lips. “Please come back to me. Please.” But Nasir would not respond, could not answer the cries of his anguished lover. He had been spirited to the afterlife, taking Agron’s heart with him. 

Spartacus and the rest of the group looked on with grief and sorrow, watching their friend break apart at the seams. Even Crixus’ heart went out to the man, knowing what it was like to know your love could not spare everyone from death’s grip. 

“Agron,” Naevia said, her own voice strained with grief, “Agron we must return to the temple. More soldiers could be present, waiting to strike while sadness distracts.” 

It took a few moments, pleading with Agron to retreat to closed doors so he could grieve without watchful eyes, but the German eventually got up with Nasir in arms and followed the guiding hand of Spartacus back to the shadow of Vesuvius. 

The walk back was a complete haze to the German. All he could see was Nasir: his lips, the line of his cheekbones, the curl of his lashes, the utter emptiness on his face. He tried to picture smile, the way his eyes would light with playfulness when Agron playfully called him ‘Little Man’. He tried to remember the way he laughed, the way his breath would catch in the throes of pleasure, the hissing sound he gave out in battle. All he could see was Nasir’s lifeless face. 

Before he knew it, they had made it back to camp. He looked up from Nasir’s face for the first time since he first saw Gannicus. Everyone looked upon him with pity in their eyes, some even holding tears of their own. He caught Donar’s eye and the man’s own anguish seemed to match his own. The sky had darkened with promise of rain, the gods mourning with him in loss. 

“Come Agron.” Naevia said, leading him to the rooms of the temple. He followed dutifully, not having any energy to protest even if he wanted to. It was like all his remaining strength was being channeled into holding Nasir tightly to his chest and making sure he kept walking. Kept moving else he collapse under the weight of his loss. Naevia guided him to a room, one he had not previously been in, that held a structure most like to a bed. He walked up to it, but found he could not part from Nasir in his arms. It would be like admitting he was gone. Admitting that he couldn’t keep him safe. Admitting he failed to keep what little happiness he had left in his life. 

“Agron,” Naevia said softly. He gazed at her face and saw her own tears on her face, creating tracks on her cheeks. She laid a comforting hand on his arm, urging him to lay Nasir down. His pursed his lips, but nodded and set Nasir to lay on the table. His body felt cold the second he parted from Nasir, and he moved to cup his lover's face, hoping just one last time that he would wake from this slumber. Agron’s tears returned and Naevia squeezed his shoulder in response. His lips met Nasir’s briefly, before pulling back suddenly-- surprising not only Naevia, but himself as well. Agron felt like he couldn't breath, the walls were closing in around him, choking him with his own sorrow, teasing him with remnants of Nasir’s loving soul. 

“I can’t,” he gasped out, and ran from the room. He crashed into Spartacus on his way out, but kept moving, needing to escape the ever pressing force of grief. People called his name, called out to him and tried to provide comfort, but Agron could only feel the grip of anguish and the bubbling feeling of sobs in his chest. He finally had to stop once he tripped on the stairs leading out of the temple and he crashed to the sands below. His breath was coming in pants as he gasped out his sobs. His chest felt like it was being split in half-- opened up for the gods to tear his heart of his breast. 

Someone was holding him as he sobbed and he looked over to see Spartacus’ own tormented face holding him tightly in grasp. And seeing the face of his leader, his brother, his comrade in arms so torn, Agron simply _broke_ and he let out a heart wrenching scream to the heavens. 

~  

The vestiges of sleep clung to Agron as he slowly woke up. He felt sore, like he had gone 10 rounds with Crixus on the training sands. A blanket was wrapped around him, the warmth much welcome upon waking up. His cheeks felt sticky and dry at the same time, and he reached up to feel the remnants of tears on his face. For a moment, he puzzled as to why he had been crying and then it all came slamming back to him. Once again, the creeping feeling of despair creeped into his soul and heart, and he struggled to breath once more. _No, no, no, no, no._

Agron could feel the beginnings of hysteria build up, when the curtain to his chambers was moved and in walked a ghost. 

Nasir.

Heart seized within chest and all breath in lungs left him in a gasp. He blinked a few times, thinking that maybe the apparition would disappear, but Nasir remained standing in front of him. Standing, breathing, alive. 

“Agron?” Nasir questioned, “You appear as if seen ghost. Are you alright?” Nasir made his way completely into the room and began stripping himself of his armor urgently, trying to get himself to Agron as soon as possible. As soon as he was properly clothed he moved to Agron’s position on the bed, kneeling and putting his arms around the German’s broad soldiers. “What moves you to such fear, my love? Tell me and see burden eased.” 

Agron couldn’t speak if he tried, throat strangled by his own disbelief. He had held Nasir’s dead body in his arms. His tears had fell upon the Syrians cheeks. He had seen the blood. Nasir was dead, yet here he was, trying to comfort Agron. 

“You’re dead.” Was all Agron could get out, a choked sound leaving his lips as he clung to Nasir arms. If this was a dream he hoped he never woke. 

“I am very much yet alive,” Nasir said, puzzled, “I have returned from watch upon wall with Gannicus, and he can stand witness that I did not fall this night.” 

Agron’s hands quaked at Nasir’s words, and while his head remembered the wounds that had sped Nasir to death, his heart ached for the words to be true. 

“Was it but a dream?” Agron whimpered, clutching his love’s body to him. _Please let it be a dream._

“I am here Agron,” Nasir said, wiping the tears from Agron’s face. He pressed a soft kiss to his lips to prove it. “I will never leave you.” 

“You can’t say that.” Agron spat out suddenly, much to Nasir’s surprise, “I held your body in my arms. I dreamed what it was like to lose you. We are at war and you could leave me at any second, felled by a Roman fuck!” 

Agron was breathing harshly, his grip on Nasir leaving bruises in it’s wake. He couldn’t shake the vision of Nasir absent breath, leaving Agron to the world alone. Nasir looked on with concern at his lovers outburst, and softly laid a hand on Agron’s cheek. 

“Agron,” He said softly, “The Gods themselves could not wrest me from your arms. It was a dream my love, cast such memories aside and know that I am yet by your side.” ” 

A sob broke forth briefly from Agron’s chest before he crushed Nasir to his chest, encompassing the smaller man in his arms tightly. Nasir held him just as tightly, pressing kisses and promises of love into his neck and shoulders. 

Agron wasn’t such a fool to believe that the world would spare Nasir simply because Agron loved him. Agron had loved Duro, Spartacus had loved Sura, Pietros had loved Barca, Varro had loved Aurelia, and yet they had all died. But with Nasir safely in his arms, breathing and alive, telling Agron that he would never leave him, he could hope. If only for a moment.


End file.
